


Visions

by ghostlygalaxies



Series: Smoaking Canary [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Lesbian, Poor Felicity, Sad!Felicity, Sara Lance x Felicity Smoak, angsty, felicity misses sara, implied lazarus pit, sara lance/felicity smoak - Freeform, v sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:52:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6472561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostlygalaxies/pseuds/ghostlygalaxies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity may seem fine, but, in reality, she's still mourning. Every night she wears one of Sara's shirts, wishing the girl was there with her. One night, Felicity gets an insane idea about how she could make that possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visions

     Each day, with the team, you act exactly the same. Or, as “same” as you can manage. But, each night, it’s a whole different story. Each night, you wear one of her shirts. You’re aware of how epically pathetic it is, _of course you are_. But it makes you feel like she’s there with you, somehow. Her mask lies on the pillow next to you — thankfully, your teammates gave up on searching for it a while ago and you were able to snatch it before they discovered it was you — and, as crazy as it may make you sound, you picture her next to you.

    You picture her golden hair in a pool behind her, her crystallized blue eyes closed; the peaceful look on her face that she gets while she’s asleep, reminding you of how much pain she’s in when she’s awake. It makes... _made_ you wish she would sleep more often. But all you see is a ghost; a vision. She isn’t there and she never will be.

     _When you finally close your eyes and sleep, you see her._

    Nightmares, not dreams. You see it happen _over and over and over_ again; picture it vividly in your mind. Though you were not there, you know _exactly_ what angle the arrows were shot and _exactly_ where they hit and _exactly_ where she fell.

    You picture the shock on her face, and the pain that she felt as she inched backward each time she felt another blow. And you see her fall. Every night. Sometimes, you see it when you’re awake, too.

    Still, you smile, but they don’t seem to be able to reach your eyes anymore. You try to crack jokes like you used to, but you never mean them, and you’ve begun to think that they only laugh out of pity for you.

    Why they pity you, you’re unsure. They didn’t know how you felt... _feel_ for Sara, how she could have felt for you.

    Only a few days before, had you made your move. Only a few days before the Canary lost her wings did you kiss her, unable to hold in your feelings anymore. Only a few days before Sara Lance was brutally murdered did you run away, scared of what she might think of you now. Utterly terrified of the rejection that was sure to come.

    And a few days after that you felt your whole world come crashing down, thinking of what could have been.

    One night, it becomes unbearable. One night, you clutch her mask to your chest as you cry your eyes out, stomach contacting and heart aching for the beautiful girl that was lost. If only it had been you. If only you had been on that roof instead of Sara.

    Poor Sara, who didn’t deserve to die twice, or even once. Poor Sara, who you ~~were~~ _still are_ in love with.

    You gasp, then, realizing that it is, indeed, love, unrequited or not. But they, the team, mistook it as jealousy. Maybe she did, too.

    Your eyes sting and your pillow is damp, and you feel so numb that you can’t even bring yourself to cry anymore. Instead, you get out of bed, stumbling a little, and throw on a jacket. A jacket that may or may not be black and faux leather; a jacket that you may or may not have worn when you took a bullet for Sara.

    And, shakily but surely, you put your keys into the ignition and drive. And suddenly you’re talking to Laurel — who probably notices the shirt that you’re wearing, and the jacket, and your eyes that are red from crying, along with your tear stained cheeks... but doesn’t remark on them — and you’re telling her your insane idea. And suddenly she’s nodding and she seems to be understanding and you smile a little, because, as absolutely nuts as this is, you have faith that you’ll see Sara again.

    Maybe this time she won’t need to be so dark and unhappy. Maybe she will be happy, and bright, and maybe it will be because of you. Maybe Sara Lance will be the... _White Canary_. _Yes_ , you think, smiling a little to yourself, _the White Canary sounds nice_.


End file.
